


Intervention

by LeannieBananie



Series: A Madness Made for Two [12]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fist Fights, Forgiveness, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Intervention, Love, Reunions, Swearing, Violence, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preston and Danse stage an intervention, because they're worried about Jo's chem use and her relationship with Hancock. Feeling betrayed and attacked Jo vanishes with only Dogmeat at her back. When Hancock gets back from Goodneighbor and finds out what happened he kicks some serious ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are squeed over and help keep a girl motivated! Also, holler if you see any mistakes.

Jo marched into the common room at the Castle a grin on her face, a beer dangling from her finger tips, and Dogmeat at her heels. 

“Hey Mac.” She called to the merc, who was lovingly caring for his sniper rifle at the table. He returned her smile and cleared off a spot for her to set down her drink before returning to his work. 

“What’s up Boss?” Tipping the battered chair back on equally rickety legs, she propped her boots up on the table and took a swig from her bottle before answering. Dogmeat was already curled up in “his” ratty red chair that was coated with his hair and shoved into the corner. 

“Nothing much for once. Left Hancock at Goodneighbor to catch up on mayoral duties and I’m thinking about taking the day off.” Preston and Danse wandered into the room as she spoke and she threw a smirk in their direction. “That is if Preston doesn’t have another settlement in need of help.” 

“We’re helping to make the Commonwealth a safer place.” He said quietly, adjusting his hat as he approached the table. “General, there is something I–we have been meaning to discuss with you.” Jo stilled and barely managed to school her expression into a neutral half-smile, while inside she immediately tensed. Preston looked serious, even for him and Danse was out of his power armor and looking more overbearing than usual, all telltale signs of trouble. Forcing herself to relax she widened her smile and motioned for him to continue with a wave of her beer, catching Nick’s eye as he sidled into the room. She knew without a doubt that whatever this was, it was going to be bad, but at least MacCready and Nick would have her back. 

“What is it Preston?” He shifted nervously and settled for folding his arms over his chest. 

“There has been some concern,” He began cautiously, his expression heartfelt and earnest, but worried. _Shit._

“About?” She prompted him, her tone sharper than originally intended, but her sense of foreboding was growing with each passing second. Even Nick looked apprehensive, propped up against the wall, observing silently as was his habit. MacCready’s hands never stopped moving, but she could sense the uneasiness radiating off him and it didn’t help her own mood, but she gave her attention to Preston with an encouraging smile. Or at least she hoped it was encouraging. 

“About Hancock and his influence over you.” Preston said the words in a rush and flinched when Jo barked in laughter. This had to be a joke right? 

“You’re kidding right?” She asked, but the amusement faded from her eyes when she was met with nothing but solemn eyes. Danse’s frown deepened and his deep voice grated against her already strained nerves when he spoke. 

“That ghoul has no place here.” He spoke with such venom that it caught Jo off guard. She knew the Paladin and John didn’t get along and that Danse had a major problem when it came to anything other than humans, but the hatred lacing his words hurt her heart. And seriously pissed her the hell off. 

She did not have the fucking patience to deal with this shit right now. All she had wanted to do was take the day off, drink a beer, shoot the shit with Mac, and wait for Hancock to show up, but it looked like that plan was going to hell in a handbasket. Forcing back a growl of frustration she tried to still the slight tremble in her hand and clenched her jaw before speaking. 

“Do you feel the same way Preston?” MacCready’s eyebrows shot up under his hat at the cold finality to her words. Both he and Nick could sense trouble brewing, but Danse and Preston seemed oblivious to Jo’s seething anger. 

“Hancock can be a valuable ally when he’s sober. However, his chem use is troubling and he’s not always reliable.” Danse snorted and drew Jo’s attention. She raised a brow and looked at him expectantly. 

“He is a wastrel and a chem dealer. He’s despicable and he’s roped you into his filthy habits.” Jo choked on the beer she had been attempting to swallow, spitting it across the floor with a loud, hacking cough. Nick stepped away from the wall and quietly approached the standing men, looking irritated and slightly sad. 

“Excuse me?” Jo snarled, the sound of her boots hitting the floor loud in the sudden silence after her outburst. Preston moved forward in an attempt to pacify her, his normally smooth voice, stuttering and anxious. 

“What Danse means is that we’re worried that your relationship with him has clouded your judgement. The Commonwealth needs a strong leader and chems can be a slippery slope. We’re concerned that you’re not aware of-”

“Oh shut the fuck up Garvey! The Commonwealth is a shithole that tries to kill me ten times over for every settler I help, so stop talking about it like it’s a fucking person. It’s a damn death trap.” She rose to her short height, a curious buzz droning in her ears as she faced them. They truly believed in what they were saying; that her _relationship_ with Hancock was poison. 

“Boss-”

“No Mac, these assholes actually think that they get a damn say in my life. Are you fucking kidding me? After everything I’ve done for the two of you and your pet causes? Every settlement I’ve saved and mutant I’ve killed in the name of the damned Brotherhood? And you come to me and say that the one bright spot in my life, the man I love, is ruining me. How _dare_ you!” 

“You _love_ him!? He’s a ghoul! What kind of life can you expect with him? What happens when you’re old and grey or when he goes feral? What kind of life is that!?” There was something in Danse’s tone, disbelief and something else, something bitter and slightly heartbroken, but Jo was too enraged to dissect it now. She didn’t need this! Didn’t need some bigoted Brotherhood asshole picking apart her relationship with Hancock like it was his fucking right. She threw her half empty bottle with a ferocious roar, shattering the glass and sending foamy beer cascading down the wall. Dogmeat whined and hopped off the chair, circling her restlessly as she glared at Preston and Danse. 

“We’re only worried that you-”

“Boys, I think you’ve said enough. You’d better get out of here while you still can.” Nick interjected smoothly, not reacting when Danse flinched out from underneath his metal hand. Jo laughed scornfully, the sound echoing hollowly around the cement room. 

“Don’t bother. Since I’m so fucking offensive I’ll take my chem-using, ghoul fucking self somewhere else. Come on boy!” Striding out of the room, Jo let her rage carry her to her cot where she haphazardly grabbed her things and yanked on her pack before moving towards the exit. Hancock’s shotgun was gripped firmly in her hands and she grimly thought on his last words to her as he had pressed the gun upon her. _“You never know when you’ll need a good shotgun.”_ He had said with a grin and a quick kiss. _“Keep it safe for me love.”_ It took all of her willpower not to turn around and unload it right into both their conceited faces. But Dogmeat yipped at her and she focused on the ground in front of her, carefully traversing the minefield along the road. 

“Jo!” She heard Mac call to her, his voice distant enough and the wind was loud enough that she could pretend she didn’t hear it. Hunching her back against the cold she kept walking, ignoring when he called out to her again. MacCready and Nick did not deserve her censure, but she was too furious to be around anyone except Dogmeat right now. 

Their attack felt like a betrayal and even if their words had come from a place of real concern, this wasn’t a pre-war world where you could voice your opinion with only minor repercussions. In this time and place it wasn’t anyone’s fucking business what _or_ who she did with her body. And for them to say those things and think she wouldn’t care or would listen like a polite little house wife was bewildering and painful. 

They were supposed to be her friends! She had shed blood for and with them. She had helped build up the Minutemen and against her better judgement assisted the Brotherhood in maintaining their foothold here. Jo put all of herself into her relationships with her friends, they’re support in her search for her son meant more to her than she could put into words, but today two close companions had shown what they truly thought of her. That they valued her friendship so little made her feel sick to her stomach. 

She let out a shuddery sigh and kept walking, no real destination in mind, but unfortunately for her she couldn’t outrun the malice and disappointment in their words. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock beats the absolute crap out of Danse and makes a death threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos keep a girl motivated! Also holler if you see any mistakes. Thank you and enjoy!

Whistling, Hancock strolled between the stone walls of the Castle. He was in a cheerful mood that belied the gloomy coastal weather and he was eagerly awaiting his reunion with Jo. He might not have noticed that anything was wrong, except that the Castle was eerily silent and everyone he passed was carefully avoided making eye contact with him. They pretended to be engrossed in whatever task they were doing, but he could feel their eyes on his back once he had passed. Trying to ignore the sense of unease sending chills down his spine he walked further into the compound until he encountered Nick and MacCready. Their normally good-natured faces were stony and dread grew heavy his chest as they approached him. 

“Hancock.” MacCready greeted him somberly, but Hancock quickly cut to the chase. 

“What’s wrong? Is Jo alright?” 

“She’s fine Hancock, she’s fine.” Nick grasped his shoulder as he spoke, but his soothing reassurance didn’t quite cover MacCready’s wry mutter of, 

“We think.” Immediately Hancock turned to the mercenary, charging forward to grab at his shirt front. Mac stumbled back out of reach and held up his hands defensively when Hancock rounded on him. 

“You _think_!?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy Hancock!” Mac yelped. Nick quickly grabbed him as he lunged for MacCready again, more than ready to shake some answers out of the smart-ass. 

“Just listen alright?” By the time Nick and MacCready finished their convoluted tail Hancock was angry. Seething. Furious. He wanted blood. Wanted to feel bone and flesh crumple beneath his fists. Struggling to control the telltale twitch in his hands he carefully set aside his pack and in an even more careful tone asked, 

“Where are they?” 

“You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret. Just take a minute Hancock.” Nick advised, his nervous gaze darting between Mac and Hancock, obviously looking for backup. MacCready shrugged helplessly and held up his hands again. 

“C’mon Nicky, what would you do if you were in his place?”

“Damnit Mac, you said you’d help me!”

“Shut up!” Hancock snapped, while removing his knife from its sheath at his waist. The action was one of blatant premeditation and that fact was not lost on MacCready and Nick. 

“Shit!” Nick muttered, watching helplessly as Hancock meticulously folded his jacket before placing it and his precious tricorn on his discarded pack. Straightening he glared at the two hapless men who wore identical expressions of resignation.

“Where. Are. They.” Giving up Nick pointed vaguely towards the Castle, grumbling under his breath about idiots as Hancock brushed past him. 

“Let’s go make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.” MacCready suggested quietly, exchanging a knowing look with the old detective before they jogged after the enraged ghoul. 

People instinctively knew, taking one look at his dark face they quickly scampered out of his way as he marched down wide hallways searching for Danse and Preston. He stumbled across Danse first, in one of the old conference rooms that had been converted into barracks. The Paladin was in his orange Brotherhood flight suit with his back to the door, but he turned when he heard the determined footsteps behind him. Hancock only had a split second to savor the look of surprise on Danse’s face before his tightly balled fist plowed into the man’s soft underbelly. 

“Argh!” Danse gasped as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs. The angle and velocity behind the punch made his broad body collapse in on itself and he slumped helplessly against Hancock. With a satisfied snarl Hancock met the man’s sagging body with a raised knee, driving it viciously into Danse’s ribs before shoving him to the side. The resulting crack of ribs and his pained cry echoed loudly in the enclosed chamber. Falling to the floor Danse curled around his broken ribs, his legs no longer able to hold him and lungs desperately heaving for air. Hancock held back nothing, feeling the blood surge through his veins and cloud his vision, narrowing it until all he saw was red and all he felt was rage. 

When his boot met Danse’s stomach they both grunted and with another sharp nudge to damage ribs Hancock rolled over the Paladin’s limp body. Straddling it he grabbed the collar of his suit and half lifted his upper body so that their faces where inches apart. Feral onyx eyes stared into pain filled brown ones for just a moment, before he slammed his body back down and followed it closely with a fist across his square jaw. It snapped Danse’s head back against the floor with a resounding thud and left a smear of blood on the stone; bright red against grey, a savage declaration of what was to come. 

Growling Hancock punched him again and again and again. The skin over his knuckles was torn and dripping blood across the floor and his fingers were so bruised and swollen he didn’t think he could uncurl them if he tried. He knew he had several broken fingers, because every time his fist connect with Danse’s face it was pure agony, but even that didn’t stop him. He reveled in the feeling of his fist mangling delicate flesh and cartilage, of the blood –both Danse’s and his– coating his hands and splattering hot and sticky against his face. He took sadistic joy in the crumple of Danse’s nose and the loosening of teeth, of that perfectly square jaw dislocating under one perfectly positioned left hook. He fed every ounce of anger and frustration into his fists until he could barely lift his arms, but somehow he still managed to bring them up and smash them down across the face of the man who had wronged Jo. 

Danse’s face was barely recognizable at this point; his lips were split and bleeding, his teeth –those that were left– were coated in blood and his jaw was swelling and bruising at an alarming rate. His hands tried to ward off Hancock’s attacks and his legs twitched in an attempt to buck him off, but all Danse could really do was gurgle unintelligibly and try to breath. Hunching over his near lifeless body, Hancock raised his arm one last time, when unexpectedly he felt himself being pried off Danse. Howling with a sudden burst of rage and adrenaline he struggled against the arms that held him, writhing and fighting to get back to Danse. 

“Hey! Cut it out!” MacCready shouted cuffing the back of his head as they dragged him away.

“Let me go!” He seethed, only stilling when he met locked eyes with Preston from across the room. He looked horrified and afraid, staring down at the bloody, unconscious form of Danse before looking up at Hancock again.

“What did you do?” His quiet whisper made Hancock grin. It was wild and toothy, displaying the anger he still felt, but he answered honestly. 

“I hurt someone who needed hurting.” Preston shifted towards the door nervously, despite the restraining hands Mac and Nick still hand on him. The only sound in the room was Hancock’s panting and Danse rolling over to cough and spit out broken teeth and blood. 

“Garvey.” Their eyes met again and while a look of understanding passed between them, Hancock still spoke, leaving no one to doubt the sincerity of his words. “Any respect I had for you is gone and if you do wrong by mine again I will kill you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo and Hancock reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Guys I sat on this for wayyyy too long, I just didn't know how to end it and I'm only partially satisfied with this. I read somewhere once that when you put your character in a situation and you don't know how to get them out of it, you should look at what would be easier for them to do and then have them do the opposite. So forgiveness it was. Or some sort of neutral, I'll let it go just this once attitude, but we all know Hancock will never let that sh*t go. 
> 
> Comments and kudos, leave 'em if you liked it (especially now that its finally finished)!

Hancock had no idea where Jo had gone. After having searched the obvious places first –Goodneighbor, Sanctuary, and the Slog– he had started a slow, tedious search of every settlement they had established. Still, weeks went by; weeks of arduous trudging, going from angry, to worried, to scared that she had done something stupid. His only reassurance was that Dogmeat was with her and he knew the dog would keep her safe when he couldn’t. But at night, hunkered down in whatever bit of rundown shelter he could find, every paralyzing fear came out to haunt him and left him emotional drained and physically exhausted the next morning. 

Waking after another night of restless sleep he figured his day would be like any other, scouring whatever stretch of land lay before him in the vain hope that he would find some scrap of evidence she had been there. It felt fucking pointless, but it was better than doing nothing. With a heavy sigh he shrugged on his pack and peered out the grimy window of the office building he had holed up, absently wiggling his splinted fingers with a wince. He was fairly certain at least one hadn’t set right, but he supposed he should be thankful that Curie had managed to even save them at all. Ghouls weren’t really renowned for their healing abilities. Smirking he shoved open the door and carefully picked his way down the half collapsed stairs, paying less attention to his surroundings than he should have, because the spray of bullets above his head made him curse and dive awkwardly for cover. Hunkered behind a battered desk he swore again when he heard the distinct cackle of a raider and more bullets pinging across the metal surface. 

“Fuck!” Grappling for his gun he pulled it up and listened intently in the sudden cease fire, trying to pinpoint their locations. The silence was abruptly shattered by several booms from a shotgun and screams. Lots of shots, which were mostly from the shotgun and lots of screams, which all came from the raiders. He peered over the edge of the desk in time to see a panicked raider be blasted backwards by two quick reports from the shotgun. The silence that followed seemed deafening and he slid back behind the desk, debating whether or not to reveal himself when he heard steady footsteps crunching over the debris of the building. 

“Heard you were looking for me.” The sound of Jo’s warm voice, so familiar, but hesitant and a little shaky made him lunge up, discarding everything and rush at her. She let out a startled “oomph” when he hauled her against him, but her arms wrapped eagerly around him and she buried her head into his shoulder. Hancock hoped to God he never felt this knee-weakening, overwhelming sense of relief ever again in his entire life. It was debilitating and he felt his throat constrict with emotion, but any respite he felt was quickly chased away by anger. Growling he yanked her away from him and tugged her head back, ignoring the tears and anxiety in her eyes. 

“Don’t ever fucking do that to me again!” He demanded, before shoving her back against his chest without letting her respond. She didn’t even fight him when he turned on his heel and marched back up the stairs, dragging her behind him. Hancock practically flung her into the room, turning to shut the door, letting Dogmeat sneak in at the last second before barricading it. Once it was done he rested his forehead against it and tried to catch his breath. He felt relieved that he knew where she was, but he was pissed than she had vanished so thoroughly to begin with and then there was the whole Preston-Danse debacle, which he knew had affected her deeply. Shit, it had affected him too. 

“John, I–” He turned and waved away whatever it was she was going to say. 

“Don’t, just don’t. I get it Jo, I do, but I’m so fucking pissed at you.” She stumbled a few steps forward, stopping when he held up his hand to ward her off. 

“I know! I just– I’m sorry.” She finished lamely, deflating as everything left her in a rush. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground, covering her face with her hands as the past few weeks crashed over her in a devastating rush. Hancock felt a lingering prickle of frustration run down his spine, but he ignored it and sank to the floor, pulling Jo into his arms with a sigh. He was still pissed, he could feel it simmering beneath his skin, but for once he was able to recognize that his anger wouldn’t help anything. 

What he needed –what they both needed– was a fucking hug. 

Jo could feel the remaining tension vibrating in John’s frame and knew it was because of her. Things were messed up, but she was intensely grateful for his strong arms and comfortable lap. Curling herself partially around him, her head cushioned against lean thighs she played with the tattered ends of his makeshift flag belt as he fidgeted with her hair. His fingers were strong and sure as they tugged at her scalp, making her hum in appreciation. She reached out and caught his other hand, examining the grungy wraps with a sardonic twist of her lips. 

“What happened to your hand?” Their eyes met as she lifted the limb in question with a quirk of her brows. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he struggled to keep a straight face. 

“I broke some fingers.” 

“I can see that.” The dry humor in her voice made him chuckle and he knew she rolled her eyed at him, even though her head was turned away again. 

“I had a little disagreement with Danse.” Hancock felt her stiffen before relaxing minutely with a resigned sigh. 

“Please tell me you didn’t kill him.” 

“Heh. I wanted to, but Mac and Nick stopped me. 

“Thank God.” 

“Hey!” He yelped indignantly. “After what that bastard did he’s lucky I left that pretty face of his intact. Uh, well, _mostly_ intact I guess.” 

“So you think he’s pretty do you?” She teased, neatly dancing around the issue with a barb and quicksilver grin. Hancock grumbled under his breath and prodded her side with his good finger. 

“He does have a mighty fine ass.” Their eyes met solemnly for a split second, before giggles burst past her lips and he guffawed deeply. All their stress flowed out with each hysterical laugh and they continued until tears streamed from their eyes. Slowly they regained their composure, Jo clutching her sore stomach as they settled back around each other with quiet smiles. It felt good to be together again. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do John.” His fingers resumed their petting of her hair and he sighed. 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I don’t know! I’m still upset with them, but not angry. Just hurt. And the unfortunate truth is that I need them, whether I like them or not.” 

“That’s true.” He replied slowly. “You don’t need to worry about it now though. Or ever really. Heh.” His chuckle was low and raspy. “The Commonwealth is big enough that you could never see them again.” 

“That would be easier.” She sighed deeply closed her eyes. “But I think I know what I need to do.” 

Jo and Hancock “accidentally” ran into a caravan on their way back to the Castle, certain that the news of their imminent return would travel like wildfire through the settlements, getting back to the Minutemen headquarters well before them. Even so, Jo felt a ripple of apprehension when the hulking grey structure came into view. What had once seemed like a safe haven, a home even, now looked forbidding and cruel. Resentment soured any flicker of happiness she felt, leaving bitterness to burn in the back of her mouth. 

“It’s not too late to turn around.” Hancock murmured, a soothing hand rubbing light circles on her back. She knew it wasn’t strictly true, she could clearly see her friends on the ramparts. Mac’s filthy coat was blowing in the breeze and Nick’s silver hand glinted in the weak sunlight as he clutched at his hat. 

“The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get the hell out of here.” If he noticed the acerbic edge to her grumble he didn’t mention it, just took her hand and led the way, his steps as steadfast as their love. 

“You know,” His tone was deceptively casually as they passed under the shadowy entrance. “I’m thinking we should christen that big ol’ desk in your office tonight. We’ve already done mine, so it’s only fair.” She let out a surprise bark of laughter that was almost inappropriate for the mood that hovered in the air, but when was anything they did appropriate. 

“That’s an idea I could get behind.” She teased, bumping his shoulder. Jo tried to ignore all the grubby faces staring at them, acknowledging Nick and Mac with a little wave. Her feet faltered when she saw Preston emerge from the far arch with Danse standing just behind him. She swallowed thickly and schooled her expression into one of impassiveness, clenching Hancock’s hand tightly, drawing from his strength before nodding shortly at both of them. 

It was like the entire castle let out a collective breath, all the settlers resuming their work, everyone pretending that they hadn’t just been watching the entire situation unfold. Hancock snorted under his breath as they watched people practically scurrying to their stations. 

“I could still shoot ‘em for you.” Jo laughed again, surprisingly happy considering the tension that still lingered in the air. She felt a little lightheaded, realizing for the first time that her home wasn’t a place; it wasn’t Sanctuary, or the Castle, or even Goodneighbor. Her home was the man in front of her and that very thought made her heart stutter. 

“God I love you.” 

Letting out another breathless laugh she tipped back his tricorn and drew that wolfish grin down to her lips. Their kiss was joyous, feverish and all the ugliness faded from her mind as he pulled her close, those delightfully warm hands making her forget everything except _him_.

He was the only thing that mattered. 


End file.
